Need To Know
by WildMeiLing
Summary: *Done! Last chapter is up.* A threat to the Crown, a palace on lockdown, a secret passageway - it all makes for a rather exciting summary, but it isn't long before it's just another Clarisse and Joseph story.
1. Chapter 1

_I've said this before, but it bears repeating: I don't own_ The Princess Diaries.

 _Thanks, thanks, and ever thanks for stopping by to read!_

* * *

This happened sometimes. Not often, but it did happen – a distressingly unavoidable part of a political existence.

Four days ago, intelligence had unearthed a credible threat against the Crown of Genovia. Although it was investigated quickly and essentially ruled out, the palace had gone on lockdown. Until a full and exhaustive report rested in David's hands, the Head of Security would keep activities at the royal residence discreetly, but severely restricted.

Joseph, as his second-in-command, agreed whole-heartedly with David's decision to proceed with more caution than seemed necessary because when it came to matters of national security, there was actually no such thing as _more caution than necessary_.

At least, that's what Joseph used to believe.

All security staff had been working long hours, redoubling their efforts at vigilance. Breaks were few and far between, but David insisted they not be missed. An exhausted, adrenalin-fueled team would crash and burn, and that was not an option for the people responsible in matters of life and death.

So Joseph retired to his room at some point each night, ready for the sleep he knew would come too hard and fast to last long enough. And it never failed: just as he began to slip into oblivion, his phone would ring or someone would pound on his door.

The most inexperienced of the security team were living in a state of hyper-awareness; or to put it another way, the rookies overreacted to the least little suggestion of an incident. Time and again, he was dragged from the edge of sleep to investigate questionable shadows on the monitors in the hub that turned out to be, well, shadows. Once he was summoned to the kitchen over a suspicious package. He arrived to find a knot of young security guards, brows furrowed and gazes intense as they considered how to handle the unmarked brown paper bag in the center of the table. Joseph prodded it warily, opened it carefully while the other guards held a collective breath, then pronounced it to be somebody's lunch. Someone picked it up sheepishly – but still gingerly – and put it in the refrigerator.

Other members of the palace staff found their way to his apartment as well. Strange noises rattling the maids, the grocer's usual delivery guy showing up in a new car and sending the kitchen staff into a panic – there was no doubt the threat had everyone on alert.

On the fourth night, David received a complete, watertight report from the intelligence committee that documented top-notch investigative techniques and cleared the royal family of danger. When he met with Their Majesties in the morning for their regular debriefing, David would officially take the palace off high alert.

Joseph made his way to his room slowly, feeling the effects of the high wearing off. He loosened his tie as he pushed open his door and headed straight for the sideboard, where a very fine bottle of scotch was waiting for him. Just as he tipped it over the rim of the glass, he sighed. _Better not_ , he thought. Yes, they were likely out of the woods, but he didn't want to take anything for granted, and during times like this, he never considered himself to be completely off-duty. He set down the bottle and the glass, and opted for a shower.

The showerhead propelled the hot water in thin, forceful streams onto his neck and shoulders, and he felt his knotted muscles relax for the first time since the alarm had sounded. He stayed as long as he could stand it, letting the water beat the stress from his body and the thoughts from his mind.

He wrapped a towel around his waist as he stepped out of the bathroom and cast one more longing glance at the scotch. He was beyond tired, and needed to wind down before he could sleep properly.

He started across the studio apartment to his dresser, stopping to switch on a lamp. Only then did he realize he hadn't done that when he first arrived. It finally registered with him that the space was sufficiently lit by moonlight to render the lamp almost unnecessary. He turned the light off again and changed course, heading through the kitchenette to lean against the low window sill and stare up at the full moon, nearly as bright and radiant as the midday sun.

The wide window afforded a stunning view – silver-coated rose gardens and white-washed pathways and dark lawns rolling into wooded hills. The sea was beyond his window's view, but not far off, and he knew what it would look like on a night like this, fragments of the moon's reflection rippling on the waves.

His was a not a life suited to just anyone, but he liked it. His small apartment in the servants' quarters was just big enough to house his neatly organized belongings. His work could be dull as dishwater or heart attack-inducing intense, and he loved it in every form because it was always important.

And her. Of course, there was her. He had had a hell of a week, but he would endure anything for her.

He had sworn an oath to defend the Queen, with his life, if necessary. But if it ever came to that, it would not be for duty that he made the ultimate sacrifice. If he died for her, it would be because he loved her more than life itself.

He pushed away from the window to go in search of clothes. After selecting some loose pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, he picked up his guitar from where it leaned against the dresser. He returned to the window, using his free hand to hook the back of a chair from the small table in the kitchenette. He set it down by the window, then sat and propped his feet up on the deep sill. He hoisted up the guitar and strummed it a bit to start tuning.

The other reason he cherished this view? She had the same one from her suite, just a little higher up.

She occupied his every waking thought and saturated his dreams. She was the focus of his work and the beat of his heart. Naturally, as he played his favorite songs, she waltzed in and out of his mind, until it was criss-crossed with the bittersweet trails she left behind. He wondered if she was looking outside right now. He wished she were seeing the view from his room.

He sat for a long time, weaving Clarisse into melodies through the strings of his guitar, until there was a knock on his door. He stopped playing at once and closed his eyes, knowing he had no more patience for agitated servants. The words, dark as the night, were rumbling toward his mouth before he could even see them in his thoughts.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**_Please, mind the T rating._** _There is one brief instance of angry language in this chapter. As it's not my usual style, I feel compelled to give you a heads-up._

* * *

The Queen _was_ at her window, looking into the night and longing for a taste of freedom.

When David had first come with the news, Clarisse and Rupert were combining a Parliament strategy meeting with afternoon tea. She knew immediately, although she could not say what about the ever icy-calm demeanor of their Head of Security had tipped her off. He delivered the news without alarm or embellishment while not diminishing the very real urgency of the situation.

Suddenly, the palace was wrapped around them like a cocoon. She could feel it happening, although she couldn't see it...yet. Security measures were bolstered as David stood with them, the perimeters were tightening. It was a devastating feeling to know someone hated her and her royal spouse so profoundly, but she could not dwell on that. Her primary concern lay elsewhere.

Her own coolness remained intact, but her hand betrayed her with an unexpected tremor. The teacup slipped from her hand. A footman was cleaning up the liquid and shards of china at her feet and Rupert was reaching to grip her empty hand, still suspended in the air, even as the words tumbled breathlessly from her lips.

"The boys."

"Are fine. I swear it," David said evenly. "The threat is specifically against you and His Majesty."

So someone wanted only to kill her and her husband. She felt the smothering haven that was their palatial home squeeze around them, but it could not touch the tentative beginnings of inexpressible relief that filled her.

It became her first question at every briefing, her greeting to David and Joseph, her most fervent prayer.

"The boys."

Each time, she was reassured, not so much by the words the two men offered in return, but by the confidence with which they were spoken. She knew them both well enough to be able to determine when they were simply trying to keep her calm, and she could see they were themselves convinced of the safety and well-being of the Princes.

Pierre and Philippe were both attending university abroad. Extra security had been deployed to watch them, and David was in regular conference with his contacts from the intelligence agencies of the countries in which each Prince resided.

The pain in her heart and soul momentarily assuaged, her second question was always, "Genovia?"

The Head of Security explained patiently that no actual threat had been made against the public, and that undercover police and covert military personnel were out in force patrolling the streets of the capital. Its inhabitants were none the wiser; as far as anyone knew, it was business as usual in Pyrus.

By the third day, David had succeeded at significantly easing the minds of the royal couple. With their deepest fears nearly laid to rest, Rupert and Clarisse had little else besides each other to focus on during their cloistered time. And that quickly became a problem.

They liked each, but quite frankly, not _that_ much. Theirs was an arranged marriage, and though they felt affection and fondness toward one another, they were more like business partners than husband and wife. They were used to going about their often separate and insanely hectic schedules. Now their schedules were curbed and their movements were stifled. It was not an ideal situation for two people accustomed to being constantly on the go. The shock and dread of the initial threat were replaced with idleness and a sense of impotency, and it wasn't long before the King and Queen started getting on one another's nerves. Out of mutual respect for each other, they began keeping their distance.

So on this fourth night of house arrest, Clarisse found herself alone, staring out her bedroom window with the guilty knowledge that she was bored. It made her feel terribly ungrateful, the worst kind of insult to the people who had been working so hard to keep her and her family safe. There they were, risking life and limb, and the Queen was _bored_.

That's why she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't sneak out now. Still, as she gazed out into the moon-soaked night, she could practically smell the rose-scented air, could feel the way it would slip around her like a second skin as she breathed freely, emptying her mind for the first time in days…

Even better would be a ride. Strolling through the fresh air would be relief, but to gallop through it so it rushed at her and around her and through her would be heaven.

And it was so bright outside! She was certain she had never seen such a vibrant moon infusing the ethereal beauty of nighttime.

She continued to fantasize, and before she knew it, she was emerging from her closet with a pair of jeans over her arm and her boots dangling from her hand.

She could do this. What harm would there be in it, really?

With a sigh, she tossed the jeans on the bed and dropped the boots to the floor. She couldn't. Not after all the time her staff had spent in overdrive – sleepless hours and heightened awareness.

Besides all that, it would mean giving Joseph the slip. Not that he was on guard at the moment, but it would still feel like a betrayal of the trust between them. In all these years, she had never once evaded him. Well, not intentionally. Alright, there was that one time, but…

She was losing her focus. The point was -…

Oh, Lord, what was the point? She sank onto the bed. She had seen the inside of these walls for too long, hemmed in by marble and concrete and fear. Now life had started to settle, but inwardly she was still in turmoil. Intense emotion and inaction and feeling helpless had given way to a desperate sort of restlessness.

She stood up, not sure which direction to turn. She had no idea what Rupert was doing, but they had had more than their fair share of togetherness in the last few days. She couldn't leave the building with a clear conscience. She was tired of roaming the halls. That left one option. She didn't feel comfortable with it, but she was at her wits' end.

Clarisse had only gone to Joseph's apartment once in reality, but a thousand times in her dreams. As she made the trip through the palace, her step became faster and lighter, as though her feet were rejoicing at finally making their way to her heart's desire. She tried to slow her pace, tried to calm her nerves, but her body didn't seem to believe her excuse that she was on her way to seek Joseph solely in his capacity of bodyguard.

She paused outside the door. He was listening to music – classical guitar. Finally enjoying some downtime, maybe having a glass of something. No, he wouldn't be drinking. He would consider himself on duty until David officially gave the all-clear. Even still, he was obviously attempting to unwind. Surely the last person he wanted to see was her, one-half of the reason for the madness that had consumed his life for the better part of the past week. She bit her lip and started to leave, but her feet begged her to let them carry her forward. With a deep breath she relented and brought her hand up to knock on his door.

The music stopped immediately, followed by an abrupt silence. Then she heard his voice.

It was only raised enough to carry across his room and through the door, but there was no mistaking the anger, vibrating dark and low, as he moved through the apartment.

"It's called a phone. If you need to interrupt the only semblance of peace I have had in four days, you could at least have the decency to do it by picking up the fucking –"

The door jerked open.

She stood still and expressionless. He stared in wide-eyed surprise, blanching as his mouth lamely put the finishing touch on his short tirade.

"- phone." Then he came to his senses. "Your Majesty!"

It shouldn't have stung the way it did. He'd had no idea who was standing out in the hall, but it still confirmed her doubts about visiting him. Somehow, though, it was the use of her formal title that hurt more than anything.

"Joseph," she responded coolly.

"I am –" He clasped his head in both hands, then rubbed his face before dropping his arms down. "I am so sorry. I had no idea." Then he jumped aside, pulling the door open wider as he did. "Come in."

"That's alright. I don't want to intrude."

"No, no, no! You're not intruding. Please, you wanted to see me."

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"I thought you were… It's a long story." He managed a crooked smile that injected wistfulness into the concoction of sadness and regret already being nursed by her wounded pride. "Please, come in and –"

"Perhaps another time." She turned, but her feet paused as the words flew out unchecked. "I'll call first."

She made her way back through the halls, trying to leave behind the image of his face wracked with sorrow.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Never fear! Chapters 3 and 4 are here. (This one is so small, I felt it only right to post the next chapter at the same time.)_

 _For reviews, favorites, follows, or quietly reading – thank you, thank you! I truly appreciate it._

* * *

He gave her ten minutes to get back to her suite and have a bit of breathing room, then he called her.

*Once*

Had he not just been sitting there, wishing she had been with him? _¡Ayyy!_ He couldn't stand it.

*Twice*

 _¡Madre mia!_ Where was she?

*Three times*

At first, he waited five minutes between each call, but the space between grew shorter as his anguish grew deeper.

*Four*

He was going to have to start punching something.

He called for the fifth time, then immediately hung up and called the security hub instead.

 _"Claude speaking."_

"It's Joe."

 _"What can I do for you, Joe?"_

"You on the monitors?"

 _"_ _I am."_

"Is Her Majesty about, do you know? Or has she retired for the night?"

 _"She made her way to the kitchen. Didn't stay there long. Passed through the portrait gallery. Last I saw, she was heading for the library. All exits are secure though. She hasn't left the palace."_

"No, I'm not worried about that. She wanted to see me, but I – um… I missed her…call. Can you let me know when she's back in her suite?"

 _"Yeah, sure."_

"Thanks."

* * *

He had paced to the other side of the room, still arguing with himself about whether he should pursue her or give her some space, when the phone finally rang. He flew to it and was speaking before he had the receiver all the way to his mouth.

"Yeah, it's Joe."

 _"I thought she had been in the library a rather long time, so I switched to that view. She appears to be sound asleep on the couch. Not sure why she wanted to see you, but I'm thinking it will keep until morning."_

He picked up on Claude's subtle hint that he was free to try and get some sleep as well. But even if Joseph let her sleep, there wasn't a chance he would find any for himself. "Alright. Thanks for keeping me posted."

 _"No problem."_

He was dressed and ready. During his second redial to Clarisse's suite, he had changed his pants and put on his shoes. By the first phone call to the hub, he had stuffed an earpiece and mic into his pocket just in case, attaching the battery pack to his belt. So when he hung up with Claude this time, all he had to do was grab his ring of keys with all its special security guard tools and head for the door.

* * *

 _to be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Wait!** Did you see Chapter 3 is up, too? It's very short and quite easy to miss._

* * *

"Your Majesty?"

"Mm."

"Clarisse."

In her mind, where her purest, long-term memories were untouchable by the mercurial whims of a random day's interactions, she matched the whisper with Joseph. And she smiled. "Joseph?" she mumbled.

"It can't be all bad if you're smiling when you say my name."

Now she was surfacing, and her mind tried to prepare her by throwing up bits of the evening's short but fateful encounter. An unplanned nap under normal circumstances would cause her to wake up disoriented; but Love of Her Life Joseph, coaxing her gently from sleep, was so at odds with the recent memory of Ranting Joseph that she was positively dizzy. She sat up fast – and smacked her forehead right into Joseph's.

"Ouch! _Merde_!"

" _iAy! iMierda!_ "

Hand grasping her head, she glared at Joseph, who sat back on his haunches and gingerly prodded his forehead.

"I would say I'm sorry, but you were hovering over me when you scared the -… When you scared me."

"Alright then, _I'm_ sorry. I might as well say it, I was going to anyway."

Clarisse dropped her hands to her side and pushed herself back against the arm of the couch. Then she started chuckling, quietly at first so just her shoulders shook, but then it became a full-on bout of laughter.

Joseph eyed her suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

"We are," she gasped. "We're going to have matching bumps."

Slowly, a smile cracked the serious set of his mouth, and soon he was laughing, too.

"Oh, Joseph," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "It does feel good to really laugh, even if it is over something so silly. Although I am sorry I clobbered you." She leaned in for a closer inspection of his injury.

"It's alright, it –" He stuttered slightly when her fingers made contact with his skin. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "It was an accident." He pulled away, partly to maintain his clarity of thought, partly to study her carefully as he added, "Wasn't it?"

She settled back against the couch again and smiled. "Yes, it was an accident. I did not attack you on purpose."

"I wasn't sure if it was payback for…earlier," he said, wincing at the memory.

"If I were interested in payback, I would take my own head out of the equation, don't you think?"

"Possibly…" He was on his knees again, and the teasing faded from his face. "I am sorry, Clarisse. Had I known –"

"Stop." She reached toward him again, this time cupping his cheek. He covered her hand with his and leaned into her touch, his nose grazing the inside of her perfumed wrist. She felt a pleasant shiver that she hoped escaped his notice. "It's been a long week. You deserve to have some time to yourself." She pulled her hand away and, swinging her legs around so her feet were on the floor, she patted the cushion next to her.

He gave a tiny grimace as he straightened up from the floor to sit with her.

"It's fun getting old, isn't it?" she asked with a sympathetic smile.

"You usually say something about how this happens to people who run when nothing is chasing them."

"It's true. I've warned you about that for years. Exercise can be bad for your health."

"Anyway, it's changing the subject. I'm not ready for that. Will you let me give you an explanation and a proper apology?"

"Honestly, it's not necessary –"

"Clarisse."

"Alright, fine. Go ahead."

"Thank you. You see, I've had nervous people knocking on my door at all hours of the night, and I thought you were one more person coming to report some suspicious thing that I would have to investigate, only to find it was something completely ridiculous…" He gave a small, apologetic laugh as he trailed off. "Explaining it to you now sounds like I was getting worked up over nothing, doesn't it? How can I sit here and complain about people being too zealous about their jobs, or too protective of their King and Queen?"

"As I said, it's been a long week. The kind that plays hell with emotions."

"Tell me about it. How have you been?"

"My complaint sounds just as hollow as yours, given the circumstances." He raised his eyebrows in question. "I'm bored, Joseph," she said, feeling terrible and relieved to finally confess. "Bored, bored, bored. I am so…bored!"

"Are you bored, my queen?"

" _So_ bored!"

He laughed, and the sound of it was like a salve for every frayed nerve in her body. She smiled back and felt better than she had in days.

"How did you find me here? You know," she said lightly, her eyes twinkling, "you could've just called me."

"Ha ha. And I did call you, by the way. But you never went back to your suite."

"Maybe I did go back, and I knew it was you ringing and I simply chose to ignore you."

"Understandable, but I happen to know you've been wandering around aimlessly for the past hour until you finally passed out on this couch."

Clarisse turned toward the camera positioned discreetly near the bookshelves. She narrowed her eyes at it when she saw it was pointed straight at her. "You have an unfair advantage. I was trying to avoid you."

"Can't be done," he said smugly.

"Obviously. Not with cameras and a whole security team."

"Not to mention ear pieces, microphones –"

"- motion detectors –"

"- top-secret maps -"

"Maps?" She smiled indulgently. "Joseph, there I have you matched. I spent my younger years chasing two small and very active boys around this palace. I assure you, I know all the nooks and crannies to be utilized as hiding places at bath times, and the fastest routes to the sounds of irreplaceable antiques smashing against marble floors."

"Ah, but those are nooks and crannies and routes you can _see_ ," he said.

She pursed her lips as she tried to read his expression. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She laughed.

"I suppose you're referring to the rumored existence of passageways."

"Not just rumors, Your Majesty."

"I'm sure there could be some, but my understanding is that any possibly in existence would be in a sorry state of disrepair."

He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "Not all of them are in disrepair."

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"No, no. I've said too much already. That information is top secret, and may only be given out on a need-to-know basis."

"I _am_ at the top, Joseph. You don't get any higher up than I am."

"Yes, but you also have to 'need to know.' And you don't. Need to know, that is."

"I do need to know."

"For what reason?"

"I am the Queen."

"Not enough."

"And this is my house."

He started to say something, but stopped, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You have a point there," he conceded.

"Naturally."

"Even still, I have said too much. I was only allowed to see The Map after I had been here for almost five years."

"I think I've met the residency requirement," she said wryly. "My length of...employment here at the palace definitely exceeds yours."

"Yes, well -"

"So not all the security guards know about it?"

"No. And the only reason I was allowed to see it was…" He trailed off and fidgeted, and she tried to determine if he was goading her again.

"Was…?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "To be completely honest, I really am not supposed to say. I only meant to tease a bit, but I should stop here."

"So no other monarch has ever been allowed to know about these passageways?"

"I'm sure they have in the past. Some of them were probably commissioned by monarchs."

She sat quietly, and felt him grow tense next to her. He was nervous, but she didn't believe it was because of his oversharing. No, he had let something slip that she hadn't caught yet. He was worried she _would_ catch it. He was hoping she wouldn't ask –

"Joseph. Does Rupert know about these passageways?"

He closed his eyes in resignation. He was a good liar, but she knew all his tells. There was no point in trying to bluff with her. "Yes." He opened his eyes again and looked at her pointedly. " _Some_ of them."

"Well, that's more than I know!"

"Yes, but –"

"But what?"

He heaved a sigh. "Clarisse, most of them really are unusable."

"But not all of them."

"No, not all of them. But even the ones that are – they're poorly lit, and dusty..."

"I'm not deterred yet."

"You'll come out all sneezy and dirty."

"You know, once I was in the kitchen by myself late at night, and I thought I heard a sneeze coming from inside the pantry. But when I opened it up to look, no one was there."

"Nice try. There is no passage by the kitchen."

"There's a network of passageways, and none lead to the kitchen? That's a definite oversight."

"You can speak with David about it."

Her eyes lit up mischievously. "Can I?"

"Of course, you can't! You want to get me fired?"

"I would never." She allowed herself to be very serious for a moment. "I promise."

He gave her a wounded look, then held up his hand. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky what?"

He laughed and waited for her to hold up her own hand as he did, then hooked his little finger around hers.

"I suppose that's binding."

"Yes," he confirmed. "It is a solemn oath."

"Alright then." They lapsed into a comfortable silence. After some minutes passed –

"Joseph?"

"Clarisse."

"I'm bored."

"How bored are you?"

"Very bored."

"I'll get my flashlight."

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much for the reviews! I hope you're having a good time here. There are just a couple more chapters, and they were fun to write, but this is my favorite._

* * *

Joseph stood aside, allowing Clarisse to step into his room. He knew it was wrong, but he relished the giddy feeling buzzing in his abdomen. He closed the door behind them, then went to his nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and retrieved a small but powerful and weighty flashlight. When he had it in hand, he watched her turn back toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he teased her.

"I thought we only came back for the flashlight."

"Yes, but it just so happens this is where we need to be."

"There's a passage from your room?"

He didn't answer; rather he walked around to the other side of his bed and paused in front of a tall, slender bookshelf. He looked over at her. "Well? Are you coming?" As Clarisse approached, he saw in her a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Just stay close behind me," he said by way of reassuring her.

She nodded once and stood near his shoulder. He ran his hand along the edge of the shelf where it met the wall, and pushed on a bracket. Then he stooped down and did the same to another bracket near the floor. He straightened up and carefully dislodged the shelving unit from the wall. It swung open to reveal a narrow opening. He turned around to face Clarisse, and since she had been sticking close as instructed, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with her.

Yes, she would have to remain near to him as they picked their way through the passage. He might even need to hold her hand.

He should have thought of this _years_ ago.

"Ready?" he asked in a low voice, doing his best to sound dramatic. "You can still turn back."

"Don't be silly, Joseph. Let's go already." She inclined her head toward the open space in the wall. "I suppose you'll insist on leading the way."

"Do you suppose?" he asked sarcastically. He clicked on his flashlight and stepped inside. She started after him, but he held his hand up. "Just a moment. It's been awhile." Aside from some cobwebs and a thick layer of dust, everything seemed as it was the last time he had been through here. He and David occasionally walked through the hidden thoroughfares, making sure they were still viable as escape routes should the unlikely scenario of a palace siege come to pass.

No such thing as being too cautious.

After shining his light into the immediate corners and down the path a bit, he motioned for her to follow. "Stay close," he said again.

He waited until she stepped over the threshold, then he held out the flashlight to her. She took it, wordlessly questioning him with her eyes. He pulled the earpiece and microphone from his pocket and shook the kinks out of the cords before attaching them to his person. Once he felt connected – he did have the Queen, after all, and someone might want to know where she was before their little adventure was over – he turned his attention to the bookcase. As he felt around for the latches that would allow him to pull it shut, the back of the furniture piece was suddenly illuminated. He smiled his thanks over to Clarisse for shining the light for him, quickly found the latches, and pulled.

"Do you need to pull it all the way shut?" Clarisse asked casually.

"Yes, in case someone comes into my room while we're gone." He took the light back from her and started down the passage before realizing the implication of her question. He turned back and shone the light in between them so they could see each other. "Worried it won't open again?" he asked with a grin.

"No," she said haughtily. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "It will open though, won't it?"

He smiled. "Don't worry, it will open."

"I'm not worried," she said with only the slightest waver in her voice.

"I can tell."

They continued on in silence for a few minutes, making their way slowly through the cramped space. After a time, they came to a ladder.

"Let me take a look first, just to make sure everything is still stable and secure. Then you can go and I'll follow."

She eyed the ladder warily, watching to see that it held his weight as he climbed up high enough to shine the flashlight into the space above them. "You are just being overcautious, aren't you?"

"Always," came his muffled reply. He backed down amid puffs of dust, and she sneezed. "Bless you. See? Told you this would make you sneezy."

She was covering her mouth and nose, and her eyes were wide. After the dust settled, she moved her hands away from her face. "Can you really hear through the walls, or were you just saying that?"

"Actually," he said, holding his hand out to guide her to the ladder, " _you_ said that. And no, I don't think it's possible. Pounding against the walls or shouting – maybe. But not the delicate little aristocratic sniffs you call sneezes."

He ignored her affronted glare, and spotted her as she climbed up the ladder. He handed up the flashlight before following her. He made a show of pretending to be turned around.

"Hmm, let's see… I think it's this way."

"The Queen is not amused."

"Alright, alright, I _know_ it's this way," he chuckled.

He was glad for a rough patch of terrain; he crossed the uneven boards and held his hand out to help her over. She made it across with her usual aplomb, but retained her hold of his hand as they continued. He kept his face forward so she wouldn't see him smiling like a schoolboy with a crush.

"Joseph, earlier I heard music coming from your room."

"Oh?" he replied absently, intent on making sure the path was clear ahead, his remaining attention still fixated on her hand in his.

"Yes, and I thought you were listening to the radio, but it stopped as soon as I knocked. Was it you? Playing the guitar?"

He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Oh, that. Um, yes. That was me."

"I knew you played, but you always made it sound as though you picked out songs like an amateur. I had no idea you were so talented."

"Not really," he laughed modestly. "I just play around with it some evenings to unwind."

"You're being too humble. It was lovely." A pause, and then: "Would you play for me some time?"

In the darkness, engaged in an illicit quest, her hand tucked cozily in his – how could life be better? Perhaps it could be improved by her inviting herself to sit in his room some evening and listen to him serenade her? He was certain heaven itself couldn't hold more perfection than this moment in a dusty old passageway.

"I suppose. I mean, if you don't think you would be disappointed," he said, throwing a self-effacing smile over his shoulder at her.

"I doubt that's possible."

Distracted, he almost missed their destination. He stopped short and she bumped into him. When she backed off, she didn't leave nearly enough space between them to be considered respectable.

"Here we are." He handed her the flashlight again, and pointed where to shine it. These handles were stiffer, but he had them moving before she had a chance to worry.

With one firm shove, the door swung out.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Where does the passage lead them? Now we find out! (I wish I could promise you'll be surprised, shocked, blown away - but I'm betting there's a good chance you've figured it out.)_

 _Thanks again for the reviews! I do appreciate them very much. I'm glad to have you reading along while I distract myself (and maybe you, too) from reality for a little while._

* * *

Clarisse blinked, staring into the room illuminated by one small lamp near the bed and by the moonlight flooding in. "Joseph," she breathed.

Joseph stood aside to let her exit the passage first. "Recognize this place?"

Slowly, she made her way out, then spun around to face him. "My room!" She took in the sight of him leaning against the doorway, and noticed for the first time that her bookshelf was not everything it seemed. It was tall and narrow, and she had always assumed the discreetly placed brackets were solely for securing it against the wall.

He grinned as he switched off the flashlight. "We have matching furniture."

"I see that."

He moved into her room hesitantly, as though not sure whether he should have waited for an invitation. "I know it will be hard enough to explain how we got here without coming in the conventional way, but I still don't want anyone catching us with the passage open." He pushed the shelves back into place. They didn't make a sound.

"They don't make a sound," she said aloud.

"No, I keep this path maintained. To make sure I can get in here in case of an emergency," he explained quickly. "David and I occasionally patrol all the passages that are still walkable – checking for structural integrity, and um, oiling hinges."

"Ah. So…thorough of you."

She was having a hard time remaining calm. The knowledge that her bodyguard sometimes passed by her bed, probably while she was in it, had altered life as she knew it.

From now on, loneliness and restraint and unrequited love could be rendered obsolete. Every dream, every longing, every fantasy she had dared to entertain, telling herself it was harmless to do so when it was impossible to fulfill them – every single one of them could be realized with nothing more than a flashlight and a ten-minute trip through a hidden passageway.

Suddenly, the room felt very warm.

"Clarisse? Are you alright?"

"What? Yes! Of course, just…surprised. So you...pass this way sometimes?"

He stepped closer, and his eyes were dark even as his voice stayed light. "I do."

She knew that he knew what she was thinking.

Even better, she knew he had thought it, too.

"No one else knows about this one?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Only David. Not another soul." He didn't say, _Not Rupert_ , but it was heavily implied.

There was nothing between them now but moonlight. A few moments later, and there wasn't even that.

His arms wrapped around her and she let him pull her to him. She moved her hands over his shoulders and around the back of his neck as their lips met, softly at first, then hungrily. She barely registered the thud of the flashlight dropping to the floor. She was unsure who started walking them to her bed, but the moment she bumped against it, they collapsed onto it.

She could not recall the last time she had been so happy.

"Clarisse," he murmured as he trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear. "I have been so worried. These last few days –"

"I know. It terrifies me to think what you would do for me."

"It can't be any other way." He pushed back from her to frame her face in his hands. "I love you. I need you to know that. Everything I do is because I love you."

She blinked back tears that sprang from joy and fear. "I love you, too, Joseph." She said the words like a vow, an oath she swore as she reached to pull him closer again, so she could feel his weight against her.

He complied eagerly, and their words dissolved into passionate kisses.

What stopped them, she couldn't say. As quickly as they had come together, they were moving apart. He pushed himself off of her and paced toward the bookshelf as he rubbed his hand behind his neck. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him lean back against the hidden door for support. There were things between them again – their ragged breath, a conversation still forming in the wake of their kisses, a long-stretching silence.

Finally, Clarisse asked bluntly, "What do you want, Joseph?"

His answer came without hesitation. "You. This. To love you."

She was quiet again, savoring his words in this place she was certain they would never return to.

"What do _you_ want, Clarisse?"

"The same."

For the second time that night, he was on his knees before her. He grasped her waist and looked up at her adoringly as she straightened up and cupped his face in her hands. "I told myself once that I would be anything you wanted. That if you ever asked, I would be anything, do anything. Bodyguard, friend, lover – whatever you wanted and for however long you wanted it."

"Only I cannot ask."

"No, and I cannot do something that would cause you harm. Love like this could harm you." His face was strained with sadness as he added, " _I_ could harm you."

"And you. If anyone found out –"

"Exactly."

"I need you, Joseph. I cannot be without you, even if I can only ever have part of you."

"You have all of me. I belong to you. Nothing will change that."

He slid his hands across her back so that his arms were around her, and lay his head on her lap. She stroked his cheek. They remained like that a long time, until at last she got up the courage to say what she needed to. He wouldn't want to hear it, but she had to say it at least once.

She needed him to know.

"I would do the same for you."

He knew what she meant. His arms tightened around her. "Don't," he commanded tersely.

"It's true."

"Please, Clarisse. I can't bear the thought. Besides, you're more than simply Clarisse. It's not an option. Promise me."

"Joseph, I -"

"Clarisse," he implored, lifting his head so his gaze bore into hers.

"But I love you. If I could do something - anything - to keep you safe –"

"I know you do, and I know you would. But you don't need to prove it. I would never survive in a world where you didn't exist, either as Clarisse or as Queen."

There were no words left. At least, none that he would listen to. She pressed a kiss, full of inexpressible things, against his forehead. He flinched. "Oh! I forgot."

"It's alright." He managed to smile, but there were still traces of anguish caused by his fears and her confession. "Your love is worth the pain."

"Very funny," she responded with a sorrowful smile of her own. "How does mine look?"

He surveyed the damage. "You're starting to bruise." He pointed to the spot just above her left eyebrow. "There."

"It's been an eventful evening, hasn't it?"

"Life with you," he said, pushing off his knees with another wince, "is never boring, my queen." He sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him – soap and cologne and warmth. And dust.

She sneezed. He chuckled.

"I can't say you didn't warn me."

"It's only going to get worse. We have to go back through there."

"I suppose it _would_ look strange if I came out of my bedroom in the morning after not appearing to have entered it the night before."

"A little strange." He stood up with a rueful smile. "Shall we?"

She would never know where she found the strength to rise up from the bed and do the right thing, especially since it didn't feel as though she were doing the right thing. She fought to stay ahead of the looming crush of loss for things that could not be. She could mourn them later, when she came back to her room in the usual way - alone and through the door. For now, she had to give herself over to the brutal guidance of duty.

She sighed. "If we must."

"We must," he said, his words and mood reflecting the same thwarted longing.

She followed him to the bookshelf, watching as he cast one last glance around the room. He was about to open the secret door when he turned back around and frowned at something he saw.

"What is it?" she asked, following his gaze.

Oh. Those. She'd forgotten.

"Are those... _your..._ jeans?" Denim in her wardrobe was a rare sighting.

"It seems they are."

"What's underneath them?" He walked over to the corner of her bed and picked up the jeans that had slid to the floor unnoticed during their passionate embrace. "Boots?" He turned and stared at her, waiting.

"You don't really need to know."

"Oh, but I think I do."

"Let's just say, I've shown an admirable amount of restraint on two occasions this evening."

"Clarisse!"

"What?"

"You were sneaking out!"

"No! Alright, I thought about it. But I didn't do it! I went looking for you instead." She smiled sweetly. Really, he should be proud of her, although she doubted he was going to see things her way. "I told you, I was bored."

" _Dios mio…_ "

"We should get going, don't you think?"

"What am I going to _do_ with you!"

"Don't forget the flashlight. I think you dropped it over there somewhere."

He mumbled something nearly unintelligible as he threw the jeans onto the bed and bent to pick up the flashlight.

"I heard that!"

"You did not."

"Oh, yes, I did."

"Well, if you're expecting me to pat you on the back for not going through with whatever foolish plan you'd concocted –"

"I expect you to get this bookshelf open so we can be off. We need to get our stories straight, after all. People are going to want to know how we ended up with his-and-hers bruises."

With a roll of his eyes and a little more muttering under his breath, he resigned himself to working the latches on the shelving unit.

She stopped to kiss him one more time before entering the passage. Judging from his enthusiastic response, she was forgiven. They broke apart reluctantly. "I love you, Joseph. Does that help?"

"More than you'll ever know."

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks so very much for reading, and for the reviews!_

 _Why do we need this chapter? I guess we don't really, but it ends the story on a happy note, and Garry always liked a happy ending._

 _(And hopefully, the happiness makes up for the dreadfully corny humor at the end. Corny, and highly suggestive, so mind the T rating, youngsters.)_

* * *

 **Fast Forward…**

It was Princess Amelia's first official visit to Genovia, and the security staff was adjusting once more to life with multiple royals in residence at the palace.

Having observed firsthand the Princess's penchant for blunders and the Queen's revived bodyguard-dodging skills, Joseph clung as tenaciously as ever to his philosophy of erring on the side of caution. There would be no unsupervised, spur-of-the-moment outings in Genovia; no afternoon joyrides to Pyrus; no reason for police escorts home.

Mia was still unused to such a heavily chaperoned existence and was vocal in her discontent. Clarisse, whose feelings mirrored her granddaughter's, kept her real opinion to herself while she reminded Mia of the importance of safety first.

Joseph knew Clarisse's secret thoughts, and truth be told, he shared them to a degree. The Queen was quite busy with her protégé, and the Head of Security was tied up with his employees' redoubled efforts. They rarely had a chance to be alone with each other for a simple conversation, not to mention anything else, and they missed each other.

Sometimes, as they passed each other in the hall or wrapped up a briefing or endured a drawn-out session of Parliament, Clarisse would shoot a surreptitious glance at Joseph, her eyebrows raised in a silent question; and she would receive a covert wink in return.

Did it help, knowing she loved him? she asked.

So much more than she could ever know, he responded.

Other times, the wordless exchange happened after a member of the security team swooped down in time to save the Princess from a potentially clumsy moment. The meaning changed, but the underlying sentiment was the same.

Are you bored yet? she asked.

Never, he responded.

One night, after a particularly eventful day involving Mia's new designer heels, a sagging hem, and a mud puddle, Clarisse flopped back onto her bed in a decidedly un-Clarisse way, entirely too exhausted to even think about starting her bedtime routine. She sighed and stared up at the ceiling until the painfully sharp images of the day softened, and she found herself laughing. Quietly at first, but it built up to a full-on bout of laughter.

"Oh, help," she pleaded – to whom, she wasn't sure – as she wiped tears away from her eyes. She turned her head on her pillow and stared at the phone. After a deep calming breath, she rolled onto her side and summoned enough energy to reach for the receiver.

 _"Yeah."_

"Yes," she corrected him. It was an automatic reaction after all the time she had been spending with Mia and her slang-ridden vocabulary.

 _"Ah, of course. My apologies. Let's try again."_

Before she could respond, she heard the connection break. She blinked in disbelief at the receiver before sitting up and dropping the handset into place with a sigh. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot impatiently in the air while she waited to see if the phone would ring. When it stayed silent, she picked up the handset and redialed the number.

 _"Good evening. Joseph Romero speaking. How may I be of service to you?"_

"That's not really better."

 _"Perhaps a simple hello?"_

"Please." Then she hastened to add: "Wait! _Don't_ hang up."

He sensed her request was a mixture of humorless warning and tired pleading, and stayed on the line. _"Alright."_ He cleared his throat and she sighed again. _"Hello."_

"Hello, Joseph," she replied testily.

 _"Clarisse! What a pleasant surprise."_

She bit back a retort and opted to keep the conversation moving. "Is this a bad time?"

 _"Not exactly, but I am glad you decided to call rather than just pop by."_

"Oh? Why is that?" she asked, her irritation waning as she wondered what excuse he would give her this time.

 _"It happens that I've just come out of the shower, and am lounging on the couch in my birthday suit."_

That one again. She laughed. "I'm glad I called, too," she said with mock relief.

 _"What can I do for you, my queen?"_

"I'm bored, Joseph."

 _"Not possible,"_ he responded quickly and emphatically _._ There was a small pause before he asked, _"How bored, Clarisse?"_

" _So_ bored."

 _"I'll get my flashlight."_

Seven minutes later, Clarisse heard him knock – just once – on the back of her bookcase.

She tapped out her half of the code knock and he answered with the other half before she reached out to undo the latches. She opened the furniture-door to reveal her Head of Security, leaning against the wall of the tunnel with his arms crossed and a grin on his face that made her think of a time when they were quite a few years younger.

"I'm disappointed," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" he pried as he entered the room and turned to push the door closed.

"Yes. You arrived here far too quickly to have had time to dress first." She waited until he was facing her again to let her eyes sweep over his form pointedly. "I don't think you were naked when I called."

He chuckled. "I was not. However," he said mischievously as he took her into his arms, "that can be remedied easily enough."

She dodged his lips and he pulled back in frowning confusion. "You're awfully presumptuous," she accused as some of the day's frustration clung to her.

The frown gave way to another grin. "Just hopeful, Clarisse. Always hopeful."

The last traces of stress finally dissipated once and for all, and her mouth began to quirk into a smile just as he aimed at it again. This time, his lips found their target, and the two of them fairly melted into a stomach-tingling, knee-wobbling kiss.

When they finally broke apart for air, she eyed him warily. "Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

She felt something tap against her back, and when she turned her head to look over her shoulder, he held up the flashlight. He arched an eyebrow suggestively and she laughed. He silenced her reaction with another eager kiss.

She barely registered the thud of the flashlight dropping to the floor. She was unsure who started walking them to her bed, but the moment she bumped against it, they collapsed onto it.

And stayed there.

* * *

The End


End file.
